#they both shower with the same kind of soap steve just uses different shampoo

[catharusustulatus]

"Steve smells like this" "Eddie smells like" stop playing. Steve smells like Farrah Fawcett hairspray, guy's mane stayed put through lake water and hell. He also smells like vanilla and laundry detergent. Eddie takes after Wayne and likes Werther's Originals so he smells like butterscotch; also like leather left in the sun.

[siriuscatbennett]

The First Avenger info dump because I can

Enlistment/Dog Tags/Awards:

It is canon that Bucky Barnes enlisted on his own right after Pearl Harbor (and Steve tried). This would make his dog tags a type two. His service number would start with a 1 (enlisted army soldier) and a 2 (from New York). This site can be used to generate dog tag numbers (I haven’t tried all the functions, but be aware the O for officers is a 0 starting in 1942). 

During WW2 (amongst other times), there was the Regular Army and the Army of the United States (which no longer exists). Voluntary enlisted men were in the Regular, with draftees in the other (officers were often part of both and had two separate ranks). If you choose to divert from canon and make Bucky a draftee (I personally have always liked this fanon because I’m evil), his service number would start with 32 (drafted, New York). This would also better explain why Bucky rises to the rank of Sergeant so quickly as promotions happened constantly in the AUS ( Dwight D. Eisenhower rose from a colonel to five-star general in three years). 

Steve would have a different type of dog tags than Bucky (including a different chain). He would have a type three (as would anyone between July 20, 1943 and March 31, 1944). I will illustrate the differences below with the custom tags I made for Steve's sister and Bucky in my fanfic (feel free to use the info from them). The N and 7 in her tag are for nurse.

The T42 you’ll see below is the year tetanus shots were recieved. I’ve seen some with two years and some with one. The B is blood type and the P is religion. 

Steve received an award for rescuing the POWs. Seeing as this wasn’t presented by the president, I’ve decided it was the Distinguished Service Cross. This award comes with a $2 pay raise; as a Captain, Steve previously made $200 a month, paid monthly (post-serum). Bucky made $78 as a Sergeant, with a $3.90 pay raise after 3 years of service (December 1944). Steve also obtained SSR pins after joining them (and I believe the Howling Commandos should have as well). (Even though nurses had the rank of an officer, they didn’t get equal pay until after WW2. They earned $70 a month for the first 3 years.)

Many soldiers put their second dog tag in their boot, usually slipped on the shoe laces in between the tongue and top of the shoe.

Not a fact, but I will add a link here to a website where you can either buy Bucky/Steve’s dogtags or make custom ones for $10 (personally, I would advocate for the custom as Bucky’s say he’s not from NY and show he is a draftee. Also, he has type B blood, not O. And Steve is Protestant, not Catholic. The site also states officer’s service numbers didn’t start with 9, but those with special duties did. His service number would most like be between 800000 and 999999, starting with a 0- to show he’s an officer).

Sister: Margaret E Rogers N-724669 T42 B                         P

Bucky: James B Barnes 12831412 T42 B Margaret Rogers (next of kin) 1404 Alameda Ave (next of kin address) Brooklyn NY     P (address, religion)

Italian Front:

Seeing as the 107th were venturing to England in June 1943, they most likely headed straight to Sicily from there (or diverged if they had fuel) to aid in the invasion, continuing into the invasion of the mainland before pushing troops back toward Austria. Italy surrendered at the very beginning of the invasion of the mainland, so the Allies only fought Nazis and Italian soldiers loyal to Mussolini (National Republican Army), who was arrested during the invasion of Sicily and broken out during the mainland invasion. Seeing as Chester Phillips and Peggy were with Steve, they must have joined the 107th later. In my canon, they (and Howard) join at the beginning of the mainland invasion. 

AM-lira (Allied-Military Currency), 100 "am-lire" for a U.S. dollar, was the currency specifically put into circulation for Allied Military after the landing in Sicily. It was used interchangeably with their normal currency. Once the Howling Commandoes join the SSR, they use British currency. 

The 107th’s camp pre-Battle of Azzano was most likely behind the  Volturno Line. Azzano is part of Umbria, which was about 170 miles into enemy territory. 

Post-Azzano, the camp was most likely behind the Barbara Line. Walking approx 533 miles from Kreuzberg, Austria, with troops alternating resting periods in the trucks, walking approximately 42 miles for 12 hours a day, they would reach camp in thirteen days.

Random:

Steve’s canon address according to Avengers is 1404 Alameda Ave. Brooklyn, NY 11362. This is a Queens zip code. I changed it to 11237.

As a Sergeant, Bucky would command a squad of 12 soldiers (privates), split into 3 fireteams. He was also assigned a PFC (one of the scout riflemen) as an assistant; this soldier could serve as either the squad leader's messenger to the platoon commander or could be used to relay orders to other squad teams, as needed. Sergeants are responsible for the individual training, personal appearance and cleanliness of their soldiers, and are expected to set a standard for lower-ranked soldiers to live up to.

Women did have their own army sect for part of the war (Women’s Army Corps) but they didn’t go overseas as they didn’t legally get benefits overseas {I didn’t read a lot on this, take this with a grain of salt}. They did all the non-fighting jobs like listening to radio transmissions and fixing weapons. 

On the ship, there were three-tier bunks. Enlisted men got footlockers under their beds (you could lift up the base), while officers got standing lockers. I would assume water on ships was cold, filtered from the ocean, and they had showers.

Showers were available but not popular at this time, just like hot water heaters. Many people still boiled water to take baths. People also didn’t bathe as often and there was only one kind of shampoo and no conditioner. Women made their own concoctions, used soap, or straight up would do egg masks. Hair was kept clean by doing the “100 strokes” with a hairbrush that was cleaned after every use. Indoor heating also wasn’t used everywhere, leaving many places still using things like fireplaces and wood stoves.

Soldiers used latrines in WW2. They also used a bucket of water and a bar of soap to wash. When water was unavailable and snow was, it was melted and used. They could also simply use things like rivers and lakes if available but if unnecessary, weren't used as lice was prevalent along with disease. Clothes weren't washed often (depending on the situation, some men went weeks without washing their uniform, only changing into dry socks when necessary) but when they were, they were boiled in big pots of water in mass and hung on a line to dry (there were also other ways, but I preferred this one). They carried an extra shirt, socks and laces, water canteen, ammunition, a spade, grenades, a gas mask, food rations, a cup, a wash kit (toothpaste, razor, comb, etc), first aid pouch, and a helmet (usually on their head) in their haversack's/on their belt (and rations, of couse). There was also a tent pack, but most soldiers would simply carry a raincoat. Lots of candles and oil lanterns to light the night. Canvas water bags – also known as Lister bags – were hung around camps and used for dispensing drinking water in which a dose of chlorine was added for purification.

Medical:

Morbidity from such diseases as tuberculosis (anti-tuberculosis agents didn’t begin to appear until 1949), rheumatic fever, typhus, dysentery, and malaria were high. There were tuberculosis quarantine wards separate from the other patients and were eventually evacuated. Frostbite was also common during the cold. Hepatitis A and B were also prevalent. Trench foot was also common, sometimes leading to jungle rot (often referred to as 'the creeping cruds'). PTSD was known then as 'battle fatigue'; men showcasing symptoms were often just given rest and food near the front lines and would normally rejoin the fight in a few days or were evacuated if necessary. All soldiers were vaccinated against tetanus, typhoid, smallpox, cholera, and yellow fever before shipping out. Dental hygiene was extremely important and many field hospitals were equipped with dental prosthetics. 

Food:

A-Rations referred to fresh/refrigerated meats, bread, and vegetables, prepared in mess halls. These meals were basically the same as C-rations, but fresh and always warm.

C-Rations consisted of one M-unit (12 oz can, meat), one B-unit (12 oz can, bread/dessert), and an accessory pack. Each daily ration consisted of three M-units, three B-units, and three accessory packs (one for each meal). The cans were made of tinplate. The cans had a gold lacquer finish. C-rations can be eaten cold or hot and were cooked with a Coleman's pocket stove (which was made specifically for WW2 soldiers).

M-units initially had three kinds: meat and beans, meat and potato hash, and meat and vegetable stew. In 1943, meat and spaghetti in tomato sauce was added; along with meat and noodles, pork and rice, frankfurters and beans, and chicken & vegetables in 1944. 1944 also brought a chopped ham, egg, & potato unit and compressed cereal B-units to replace meat & vegetable hash.

B-units contained crackers, three sugar tablets, loose candy (Brach's chocolate caramels, candy-coated peanuts/raisins, Charms hard candy), and a packet/small can of beverage mix (instant coffee, powdered lemon drink, or bouillon soup powder). Orange drink powder was added in 1944. Due to spoilage, the loose candy was replaced in 1944 with a Brach's fudge disk or a Jim dandy.

Accessory packs (brown butcher paper) contained sugar tablets, water purification tablets, a flat wooden spoon, a piece of candy-coated chewing gum, three 3-packs or one 9-pack of cigarettes, a book of 20 moisture resistant matches, a paper-wrapped P-38 can opener (with instructions that everyone immediately throws out), and about 22.5 sheets of toilet paper. Cigarette brands included Camel, Chelsea, Chesterfield, Craven A-Brand, Lucky Strike, Old Gold, Philip Morris, Player's, Raleigh, and Wings (these were traded constantly). Can openers were meant to be disposable but soldiers wore them on their dog tags for later use either with opening cans or other things (clean muddy boots, screw screws, open letters, strip wires, trim loose thread, and sharpen pencils). 

Seriously. They really gave every single soldier three can openers a day. With printed instructions. During metal rationing. Of which soldiers just put them on thier dog tag chains for later use. Where did all these excess can openers go? And why half a sheet of toilet paper? 

Clothes:

The nurses wore an olive drab service jacket and skirt (they are seen in pants as well) and cap, khaki shirt and tie, and brown shoes (wore nursing shoes or boots). The rank insignia (a single gold bar for second lieutenants, the vast majority of nurses) was worn on the epaulets. A gold "U.S." pin was worn on each collar, and a gold caduceus with a red N was worn on each lapel. Whenever the service jacket wasn't worn, the rank insignia was pinned to the right collar, the caduceus on the left.

Soldier’s field uniforms looked like this (with some adjustments based on gun used). And yes, the leggings are neccessary, they helped keep feet dry: 

The layout I made for Steve’s apartment (there are 2 beds and dressers in the spare room because Bucky lives there too, feel free to change this):

These aren’t all the links I used, because I’ve gone through a lot, like a lot, but here are the ones I saved that are relevant (I don’t like using wiki but I cross-checked any info stated above):

https://www.google.com/amp/s/screenrant.com/winter-soldier-mcu-complete-timeline-bucky-barnes/amp/ https://movies.stackexchange.com/questions/65170/how-did-bucky-get-the-rank-of-sergeant https://marvel-movies.fandom.com/wiki/Steven_Rogers https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Italian_campaign_(World_War_II) https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allied_invasion_of_Sicily https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Allied_invasion_of_Italy https://history.amedd.army.mil/booksdocs/wwii/medsvcsinmedtrnmnrthrtrs/chapter6.htm https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Squad https://www.reddit.com/r/AskHistorians/comments/4j8zos/pay_of_american_gis_during_world_war_ii/ https://blogs.stockton.edu/womeninwwtwo/womens-military-involvemnt/womens-nurse-corps/#:~:text=The%20pay%20of%20members%20in,per%20month%E2%80%9D%20(2). https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Service_number_(United_States_Army) https://www.med-dept.com/articles/u-s-army-ww2-dog-tags/

Find me on Wattpad here where all of this information and more will be compiled in a Bucky Barnes series with mediocre writing (coming soon). 

[iwantutobehapppier]

As It Was

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: You and Steve had been hooking up on the sly for months now. Feelings are caught but is everyone adult enough to deal with them? And who caught them?

Warning: 18+ Only, Smut, Angst, sooo much angst. I’m not a nice person in this one. Described panic attack, cursing etc.

Word Count: 3,990

A/N: I’m in a mood and working through it. There will be sex and angst. Expect nothing more. Enjoy! :) Sorry not sorry. @sagechanoafterdark​ is gonna hate me after this but I will make her latkes to make up for it. Oh and def not MCU Canon. Everyone’s alive, I'm making it angsty enough don’t need dead peeps too. For now kekeke. 

You were both truly naive to think you could hide from a group of spies and enhanced like this but your hopefulness coupled with Steve’s never-ending optimism pushed you into delusions. Or maybe it was just the lies you let yourselves live in, that this was only sex and there was no need for anyone else to know.

“How did that date go last night?” You tried to focus on Wanda’s idle chit-chat waiting for the rest of the team to file into the conference room for a debriefing on the newest mission. Steve stood to the side of the room talking with Bucky; you looked his way to find him staring at you. He shouldn’t be so obvious really but it was hard not to stare as you were in his bed just this morning.

“Hello?” Wanda waved her hand in front of your face. You jerked back giving her full attention but not without a bashful glance.

“Good. I mean probably okay?” You sighed, “No it went pretty bad actually.” Wanda’s frown encompassed her whole face; she had been trying so hard to help you with your love life. It wasn’t like you could fault her for meddling, Vision and she worked so well together and she wanted the same for you.

She just couldn’t know that it was hard to have any good date when you were hooking up with Captain America on the sly. They would all pale in comparison but this date had been quite the spectacle of tragedies.

“Never knew someone could talk about themselves for an entire night. Let’s not forget he flirted blatantly with the waitress then, made some innuendo at me blowing him in his car in the middle of dessert.” Giving a reader’s digest version of the story you wouldn’t mention to her the way his hand kept riding up your skirt or how he practically propositioned the kind waitress to partake in a threesome.

You may have also spared the details for listening ears, specifically the pair attached to a blonde centenarian, who would not respond well to learning you had not been entirely forthcoming with details when wrapped up in his bedsheets following the atrocious date.

“He tried to put his hand up your skirt?!” Wanda’s tone was harsh, her powers lighting up her hands in response to her rage.

“You promised!” You frowned at her, you had requested several times she keep her wandering mind to herself around you. Wanda blushed at being caught.

“I knew you were holding back,” She didn’t even vein remorse, “I’m sorry it went so badly but I am not sorry for prying.” She took your hands in hers about to speak but Tony interrupted.

“I know you all have missed me whilst away,” Tony held his hand to his heart “But I am here!” last to enter with this signature flair of dramatics, “Capsicle take it away!” Tony plopped down next to you with a side smirk that you reciprocated with an eye roll.

Facing forward Steve’s eyes landed on you first, the small frown marring his face indicating he had heard Wanda.

“Let’s get started,” Tightness in his voice made you involuntarily flinch, you knew, later on, there’d be a conversation or worse there wouldn’t be one at all.

~~*~~

You limp your way back to the personal quarters following a very long but successful mission. Not without the colossal share of setbacks landing Natasha in the med bay, Bucky stranded at one point without working comm, Tony’s suit damaged beyond macrobiotics ability to repair and you along with Steve ambushed. What did it matter though if the mission was successful?

Happy to finally be back in the sanctuary for your room you started the shower letting it warm up while you slipped out of your gear. Walking back into your bedroom the welcomed silence was interrupted by your sharp inhale through clenched teeth at the pull of the tight suit on bruised and battered muscles.

“Need some help?” You jump turning around at the sight of Steve leaning against your door jam. His arms crossed over his torn and dirty stealth uniform. Did he follow you to your room from the Quinjet? The jerk on your battered body nearly sends you to your knees in pain. You just wanted to be in that hot shower, let your body feel some form of relief.

“Yes, please,” All you can get out, working hard to keep the tears of pain at bay. There was no reason to hold them back except your own pride. Steve shut your door and strode over to you, helping you peel the catsuit down your back, over your hips, his fingers gentle trailing over forming bruises. 

Steve clenches his jaw the more he exposes your injuries, a rather deep cut on your hip, dried blood trailing all the way past your knee. You place your hands on his shoulder when he ushers your legs from the suit. Left in your activewear bra and underwear you felt an unusual level of vulnerability.

You two had been fooling around for months but neither tended to each other in such a way outside of mandatory mission first aid. 

“I’m going to wash this grime off, did you want to join?” You voice barely a whisper staring down at Steve, his head slowly trailing up your body to catch your gaze. With a brief nod he stands up and you step out of your suit, moving to face his chest and helping him remove his suit. 

Soon the two of you are bare, under the harsh bathroom fluorescents and warm large showerhead’s rushing water. You stand there, your back to his front, almost touching. Almost something more than just a mutual need to clean. You close your eyes and tilt-up, letting the rainfall showerhead leave trails of water down your face. The two of you shampooed your respective hair, he opted to use your gardenia scented shampoo, his own shampoo only ever in his bathroom.

Having him so close and naked but not touching left an uneasy ache in your stomach. The sensation that something was wrong, but what could be wrong? You turned your head back to look at him, his eyes were already on you, they were always on you. His gaze felt different than any others and you weren’t sure what it meant. A storm burning behind those beautiful blue eyes. Often, you find yourself getting lost in those pools of blue. Clearing your throat you turned back around, closing your eyes and tilting your head back up to rinse the shampoo from your hair. 

Maybe you imagined it all? Your desire to want more from him projecting your own wishes in his actions.

You are startled from your thoughts when you feel a soaped washcloth gently drag across the back of your neck, along your back and moving to your front. Rough calloused hands with a tender touch washing you clean of all the harshness of the past few days. A relaxed sigh escapes your lips, the coupling of warm water helping your muscles loosen and Steve’s attention pulls you into a cloud of comfort.

An involuntary hiss pulls from your mouth when he washes the deep gash on your hip. Muttered “Sorry” is his response, bending his knees to be low enough behind you to clear away the blood. Your eyes drawn to the crimson water swirling down the drain, but you were pulled to face him, his eyes assessing your front to find any speck of grime he missed. 

Once he was satisfied you took the washcloth from him, ensuring to ring it clean and reapply soap you begin the task of cleansing him.

Petite hands run over the wide expanse of his chest following the washcloth, this feels different, you want to shake it off and pretend that was not true but it was different. Whatever it was between the two of you, it was growing, mutating, maturing into something more.

With both of you free of the missions burdens and dirt his lips crash against yours. The intensity of his kiss is startling, hands trailing up your sides to wrap around your back, pulling you flush to him. His touch was untethered in a way unfamiliar to you. Finally, he pulls his lips from yours, your lugs desperate for air. Wide eyes look at him, and he can only answer with a low lid gaze, licking his lips as he pulls you in once more to drink up all you have to offer. If he asked you’d give him everything and what was left after that.

Your hands grip his shoulders, needing an anchor in the rocking waves of his desire. His hardening cock presses against your stomach, a soft moan spilling into his mouth that he eagerly consumes it. Hands slipping down your waist, one hand gripping your wound free hip he hoists you up against the cool bathroom tiled wall. 

Legs wrapped around his waist, his gorgeous cock sitting pretty between your lips. You rock against him, your slick coating him, he grunts into your mouth, not once pulling away, you take in much need air through your nose. 

There was no need for foreplay, you were always ready for him, something you hoped he did and didn’t notice at the same time. After all the power he had over you, you wanted to keep him ignorant. Oblivious to your thoughts consumed by him, the way your skin craves his touch, your heart longed to keep him there with you forever. The dates you went on to keep appearance that this was still casual to you. That this was still whatever he wanted it to be so it wouldn’t stop.

Pulling you from your thoughts Steve manhandles your body to line you up. Releasing your lips you watch at his cock sitting at your entrance. You coo, watching him slowly push in. Your fingernails dig into his shoulder, Pushing forward until he’s reached your depths. There’s a lascivious way to how he feels inside of you. His head falling into your neck, peppering kisses on the wet skin. 

“Feel so good around me,” he garbles into your neck. The pace he starts is slow at first, almost loving, but the jarring way he pushes the last few inches in reminds you what this is. Carding your hands through his hair you pull his head back to look him in the eyes.

“Fuck me Steve,” His eyes darken, following your command he pummels into your heat. Driving you both into moaning messes. Foreheads pressed together, slapping of flesh echoing against the tiled walls. He presses his lips to yours, the softness of it contrasting the carnal brutality of his cock driving into you.

Lowering his head he takes a pebbled nipple into his mouth, suckling and pulling. Knowing you love that pain wrapped in your pleasure. Your hands slap against his back, arching into his touch you cry out. Fingers digging into the corded muscles of his back you seek purchase on something, pleasure wrecking your body of any sense. 

“Steve!” You holler, your body drawing tight as the ever needed orgasm nears. “Please,” the gentleness in your pleas pulls Steve’s head back up. A hand leaves your waist, cupping the side of your face. “Yes, I’ll give you whatever you want.” He gasps out face tightening as you both near. 

“Come for me and you can have it all,” he continues hips never faltering. His cock stretching and dragging along your walls. A particular deep thrust sends you spinning, your legs tighten around him fingers digging into flesh enough to bruise if he hadn’t been a super-soldier. 

His pace stutters, a staccato of groans fall from his lips and you feel that telling of warmth shooting inside you. God how you loved the way he felt cumming inside you.

There’s a peaceful silence in the oncoming dawn, the two of you wrapped in each other under your bedsheets. Legs tangled together, your head resting on his chest, entranced by the rhythm of his heartbeat. You woke before him, a first, drawing random patterns on his chest with your finger. 

Idle thoughts race through your head, now that the mission is washed away after a night of rest you could not help but think on your date and Steve’s reaction to you withholding information. If it wasn’t addressed sooner rather than later it would just be a new topic for you two to not talk about, just like whatever this was. 

When he wakes up, his arms wrap around you, holding you tightly against him. The embrace welcomed and certainly something you could get used to as a routine. He lets out an exaggerated yawn and smacks his lips together looking down at you with a sleep ridden smile. A smile tugs at your lips at his adorable morning mannerisms. 

Better to get this all out in the open before the day began and you became a coward.

“About that date-” Before you can say more a shadow falls over him, lips downturned when he practically chucks you off him.

“You’re not obligated to tell me things like that,” his voice rough with sleep, he swings his legs off the bed sitting up with his back to you. “You’re really not obligated to me in any way outside of following mission directives,” the curtness in his voice is searing in your ears. 

Right, right you two weren’t obligated to each other. Obligate meant you had to get something back from him other than orgasms. 

“Oh right…” the silence settles between the two of you, heavy and uncomfortable. You pull your sheets up to cover your chest while sitting up. There are a few moments of controlled breathing, erratic heartbeats, and tense shoulders. Steve stands and makes for his dirty mission clothes, never looking back at you, covering his privates with the clothes but not putting them on. Your room was across from his, not like anyone would see him.

“I’ll see you around,” It wasn’t until he was out of the room that you realized the shared silence between you two was full of all the things left unsaid, or half-spoken. 

You don’t see him again until the next mission briefing a few days later. Only looking for him once, and when he brushed you off to spend time with Bucky you weren’t hurt only upset he never came to you later. 

Entering the familiar conference room you sit next to Tony who was surprisingly there before you. He smiles at you and you return it before facing forward. Steve not looking at you, for once. His eyes on the report in his hands, a grimace covering his face before he begins to discuss the upcoming mission. Eyes never leaving the paper.

“Are there naked girls on that paper man?” Bucky asks a soft chuckle is Tony’s input.

Steve huffs looking at his longest friend, “No.” a grumble under his breath. 

“Then maybe look up, what’s wrong with you punk?” Steve’s eyes divert to you for a moment, so fast you almost miss it before he’s looking at Bucky once more.

“Nothing,” he clears his throat and continues, his eyes perusing the room but never landing on you. Your face downturned to the table, the uneasy feeling you had during the shared shower returned but tenfold. He calls out your name and it startles you, jerking up to look at him. His lips pinched before he continues.

‘You and Tony will be doing this one together,” You look at Tony who gives you a thumbs up with a soft smile. While the two of you had been paired before on group missions it had never been just the two of you.

“We’ve got this Firecracker, right?”  Giving a tentative smile you nod in agreement. Looking back to Steve he’s staring down at his papers once more, brow furrowed and lips pursed. Whatever thoughts he had storming in his brain, not good.

~~*~~

Five days, you’re with Tony for five days on this mission. It wasn’t so bad except Tony loved to complain. You were used to the silence of Natasha and Bucky or friendly conversations with Steve. Not the never-ending complaints of one Tony Stark. 

You escape to your room, leaning against the shut door with a relieved sigh. Silence, blessed silence. 

However, that silence was short-lived when the echo of knocking on Steve’s door carried over. You should move further into your room and not eavesdrop but you were too exhausted to care enough about proper decorum.

“Hey Steve,” a soft familiar feminine voice greeted Steve as he answered the door. Your eyes narrowed. Who was that?

“Oh! You’re here.” He sounded flustered, “I’m so sorry I should have met you out front.” His words are rushed with an uneasiness to it. What was Steve hiding? 

“It’s alright, Bucky let me in and honestly I was just excited to see you for tonight” the soft comforting words carry across the hall through your door. Just as you went to step away, not wanting to hear anything that would do permanent damage to your already fragile heart.

“I mean we’ve been tiptoeing around each other for years then it was radio silence,” there was an awkward chuckle from Steve in response “Was surprised when you asked me out.” There it was. You fall back against the door, the back of your head hitting the door with a thud. 

“Oh, what was that?” The female voice questions but Steve dismisses it quickly and leads her down the hall. Away from you. For a date. A date that Steve was going on. Without you.

Your heart pounds in your ears, sliding down the door toppling onto your ass, the pounding on gets louder. Taking in large gulps of breath you try to gain a sense of reality, it's unobtainable. A buzzing noise is all you can hear. Whatever this was it made all torture you’d suffered in the past seem like child’s play. Crushing, that's what it felt like, being crushed from the inside out. Big fat tears made their way down your cheeks.

Oh, what a fool you had been. Why would you deserve to be cherished? How could someone see you more than a simple means to an end? Laying on your side, you curl up into yourself on the floor of your room. The buzzing in your head and straggled breaths the only sound you could make out.

~~*~~

Much later in the evening, there was a tentative knock on your door. Struggling to open your tear swollen eyes you make out your name being called. Another knock, louder this time, you sit up and with a deep breath, you rub your face. Slowly standing on your knees you open the door and look up to see Wanda’s worry stricken face.

“Oh no,” a soft sigh and suddenly your being picked up, she pulls your arm around your shoulder and leads you out of your room, down the hall where Steve left, with her. You feel the crushing sensation return.

Wanda sensing your ramping thoughts sets you on a stool in the kitchen and takes your hand.

“Deep breaths,” A soft hand on your chest, “In through your nose,” She takes a deep breath and you mimic holding it with her. The hand on your chest glows a soft red, you feel your body relax “out through your mouth,” together again you breath out. “Keep doing that I’m making some tea.”

Watching her movements you continue your breathing as instructed, a thought crept up. Did she listen to him as you did? Was her advice better than yours? Was he kissing her like he did you in the shower? 

“Stop!” Wanda’s voice soft but tone harsh enough to still your thoughts. You hadn’t even noticed your breathing pick up. She brings the tea over and mimics the breathing pattern once more and you follow along. 

“There was something I wanted to tell you before that last group mission,” Wanda pushes the warm tea in front of you. Steam raising out the cup, you curl your fingers around the mug. The heat emitting into your hands helps you realize you had been cold. Pulling the mug up you take a small sip, the warmth blooming down your throat to your stomach releases an uncontrollable sigh from you, shoulders sagging.

“I heard your thoughts, about the date, about Steve,” the way she stresses his name makes you tense once more a sharp breath in. She tips her mug to you and taking another small sip you let the warmth soothe you once more.

“You’re worthy,” she speaks so softly you almost miss it. “I heard it, the thoughts you weren’t good enough, weren’t worth love.” Looking down at the mug setting it on the table you have no words to offer in response.

“You’re worth so much more than this world has given you,” a hand takes your from your mug, fingers intertwining. A feeling of warm euphoria slowly seeps in your hand up your body. She says your name making you look up at her. 

“It’s okay to say what you need,” you jerk your hand away at her words the feelings she provided evaporated.

You open your mouth to say something but the elevator doors ding, both turning you regret ever coming out of your room. 

There he was, handsome as ever, hands in his pant pockets. Head bowed down with furrowed brows. It’s a few steps out of the elevator that he notices you and Wanda. Steve freezes, his eyes didn’t leave you. Trailing up and down your body you suddenly became self-conscious of the fact you had never changed out of your gear and eyes more than likely still puffy from crying. You certainly looked sexy right now. 

He takes a timid step towards you, your back goes straight and you stand up from the stool. Whatever he had to say wasn’t going to help your current mood, you’d rather just avoid the inevitable. You were rather good at circumventing fate. 

When he says your name you make your exit of the kitchen, seeking solace in the four walls of your room. His feet are pounding on the floor as he make chase for you. 

A warm large hand grabs your upper arm stopping your progress. You whip your face around and look up at him. His lips pursed together again, there’s that look, the deepness of his blue eyes. The impossible futures you projected. 

“I-” He pauses and clears his throat, his eyes shifting around you. “I know you heard Sharon and I,” you let out a hiss at her name. Sharon, fucking, of course, Sharon Carter. There was nothing wrong with Sharon, she was a great CIA agent, a remarkable SHIELD agent but she was also locked into Steve’s past.

Not worthy, unlovable, not his, not enough, never amount to that connection. Is all that runs through your head. 

“Right, but you’re not obligated to tell me things like that,” You hate yourself right now, why were you throwing his words back in his face. “In fact,” Stop! Stop! “I’m not obligated to you in any way except following orders.” 

Steve’s reaction to your verbal assault is similar to if you had smacked him, he takes a step back leaning away from you. His hand slackens on your arm and you use this to slip out. 

Without another word you rip your arm from his loosened grip and make your way to your room. Shutting the door behind you, you walk into your closet and shut that door too. You go as deep as you can in the closet, far away from Steve. You didn’t want him to hear you crying, did not want him to hear your heartbreak.

[magniloquent-raven]

Number 73 "take mine" I'm thinking jacket sharing with Harringrove (either offering the jacket) if you have time!! 💖 💖

so. it’s not jacket sharing, i hope that’s okay!! and it’s actually a sequel to your first prompt? @bambixxblue and i were talking about a fix-it sequel where billy comes back and im weak for fix-its so i ended up with this. it’s. angsty. but also. soft? idk, i hope u like it anyway!!

basically the premise is billy and hopper were both in russia and had to break out together. posted on ao3

—-

Max turned seventeen three weeks ago. It’s hard to keep track of the days sometimes but Billy’s pretty sure he’s right. It’s hard to wrap his brain around Max being seventeen. When he pictures her in his head she’s still a bratty twelve-year-old with skinned knees who doesn’t know when to shut her mouth.

He tells Hop. Tells him about the birthdays he was there for, wonders about the ones he wasn’t. Cries a little too. Funny how easy it is to do that now. It used to be an ordeal, would burn and claw at him until he broke. He’s too exhausted for that nowadays, lets his tears fall unfettered and ignores the shame that still sneaks up on him when he does.

They have to be quiet, always afraid of being caught again. Billy’s constantly looking over his shoulder, jumping at shadows. It’s stupid to risk it, for something so trivial, but he can’t stop the words from spilling out.

“You miss her.” It’s not a question. Hop doesn’t ask that kind of shit, he just knows. Which is why Billy doesn’t respond. Doesn’t have to.

He pats Billy’s shoulder awkwardly. It’s the clumsy kind of affection a father is supposed to offer and it sets Billy off again, tears dripping down his nose and cutting streaks through the dirt smeared on his cheeks.

They’re holed up in an abandoned warehouse this time. Waiting. Always waiting. The plan is to stow away in the next cargo hold with enough space but in the meantime they’re fugitives, laying low wherever they can find empty, forgotten places.

Hop tells him about El while they wait. Billy’s heard most of his stories by now, but he listens anyway. Listens to the wobble in his voice as he talks about teaching El to read, hears the question under it all, about whether he’ll ever see her again.

Billy wishes he had an answer.

~~

The first time Billy set foot in Hawkins, Indiana, he was seventeen, angry and wanting nothing more than to be anywhere else.

It’s three days after his twenty-second birthday the second time. An icy December evening, dark and windy. He’s exhausted. He hasn’t eaten in two days. He’s a patchwork tapestry of scars that weren’t there before, a battered effigy of the person he used to be, cobbled together with scraps of what he could salvage.

Hawkins is the same unremarkable, rinky-dink town it always was. Seeing it again is a relief and a punch in the gut all at once. It’s all he’s wanted for three years, but it’s terrifying.

They end up in Loch Nora, of all places. The Byers’ old house was empty, and going too far into town is risky. 

It doesn’t feel real. Standing on Steve Harrington’s front porch, suddenly all too aware of the layer of sweat and grime on his skin. This place is too clean, too quiet. Peaceful, in a way that can’t be true.

Billy chews on his thumbnail, stands behind Hopper while he bangs on the door. There are no cars in the driveway, which means at the very least Steve’s parents won’t answer the door. But there’s no guarantee that Steve even lives here anymore.

He’s getting antsy, glancing around, heart pounding.

Then the door swings open.

Billy is seventeen, half-drunk and stinking like beer, colder than he’ll let on because fucking Indiana and its shitty weather, wiping the drool from his chin when he spots him across a room, already half in love by the time he’s clambered over a couch to get a closer look.

He blinks. He’s twenty-two, pale and shivering, thumbnail still between his teeth, and Steve Harrington’s doe eyes still make him weak in the knees.

Steve’s hair is longer, brushing his shoulders, but other than that he doesn’t look any different. Except that he isn’t looking at Billy with thinly veiled contempt or anger.

“Hey, kid.” Hopper says. “Gonna let us inside, or what?”

Steve is silent. Staring, lips parted. One hand still on the doorknob, the other slack at his side. He sways dangerously, and Billy tenses, prepared to catch him if he falls over. He doesn’t, but Billy’s still itching to touch him.

“Am I dreaming?” Steve blurts, looking dazed, unable to decide who to look at and ending up unfocused and hazy.

Yeah, it’s me, don’t cream your pants. The memory feels like someone else’s. A lifetime ago.

Billy bites down on his lip, battling an inexplicable, and slightly hysterical, urge to laugh.

“Dream about me often, Harrington?” Billy says, because apparently it takes more than nearly dying and spending three years as a fugitive to get over his inability to keep his mouth shut around pretty boys (or one in particular). Though now his voice comes out soft, quiet, betraying genuine sentiment. He’s not sure if that’s better or worse than the armor of taunts he used to cover that shit up with.

Probably worse.

Steve’s looking at him. Only him. Billy had almost forgotten how addictive that is. He watches Steve’s mouth open and close, tracks the way one corner curls up a little when he lets out a little disbelieving huff that isn’t quite a laugh. “More than you’d think,” he murmurs.

And Billy’s brain shuts off. There are a thousand questions stuck up there, but he can’t get a single one of them out because he’s too busy trying to get past, more than you’d think, echoing through his head in surround sound.

He’s startled out of his Steve-induced haze by Hopper’s pointed cough.

It seems like he’s not the only one, because Steve visibly flinches, “Right, shit,” he stammers, “Get—uh, get inside.” He ushers them in, glancing around, checking the street behind them.

The Harrington residence is one of those big fancy houses with more rooms than anyone could possibly need, but that means multiple bathrooms so Steve (as politely as possible) tells them they can both shower whenever they feel like it. And he fusses. A lot. All nervous hands clutching his elbows and teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek, eyes darting between Billy and Hopper like he’s sure they’ll vanish any second and never have been there at all.

Billy isn’t sure how to deal with it, so he avoids his eyes. Then misses looking at him.

An hour later they’re all in the kitchen. Billy keeps plucking at the sleeve of his borrowed sweatshirt, trying to keep calm. It’s too much, all at once. His skin feels raw, weird and tight. The overhead light is too bright, and the smell of Steve on everything is making him lightheaded. The soft detergent scent from his clothes, the shampoo Billy used when he showered (his hair is a lot longer than it used to be, it took forever to detangle it all).

Steve makes some calls. It’s late, too late to be calling people’s houses but he does it anyway.

Not long after, the front door bursts open.

Max is taller than he remembers. Rougher around the edges. Her hair is a choppy mess, auburn waves sticking out in every direction, curling around her ears, and there’s the sharp glimmer of silver in one lobe. She’s wearing a jean jacket with a torn elbow.

And she’s crying, messy and red-eyed, not bothering to wipe the snot from her nose.

“Where. The fuck. Have you been?” she sobs, shoulders shaking, and she practically trips forward in her hurry to throw her arms around Billy’s neck.

He opens his mouth. Closes it again. Feels unsteady, like he’ll fall to pieces if he moves wrong.

“I’m here now,” is all he can manage. She doesn’t need to hear about military hospitals and Russian prisons, about being kept in a cell, wondering if he’d ever see sunlight again… She doesn’t need that right now. Hell, he’s not ready to talk about it. Might never be.

He hugs her back, torn between wanting to squeeze as hard as he can, make sure she’s real, and being terrified of breaking her.

She still uses that shitty coconut-scented soap, and that’s what shatters him. He’s crying into her shoulder, clutching the back of her jacket. He used to dwarf her, remembers her being tiny and fragile, despite her fierceness, yet now she’s supporting his weight while he buckles.

They’ve never actually hugged before, he realizes, and that realization opens a door he wishes he could’ve left closed a little longer.

Guilt. Like undertow, pulling him back to harsh reality, cold steel gripping his heart, weighing it down. He should’ve been better. Treated her better. And now she’s here, crying like she actually missed him, and he doesn’t deserve it.

He pulls away, wiping the back of his hand across his eyes.

She’s still looking at him, hands on his shoulders, a wobbly smile on her face.

Billy is overwhelmed again. It must show, because suddenly Steve is at Max’s side, eyes gentle and his soft mouth pinched in a frown, “Max. Maybe give him some space.”

She clenches her jaw, probably physically holding back an argument, and nods, stepping back despite the reluctance written all over her face.

“I’m sorry,” Billy says, barely louder than a whisper. Then he can’t stop himself from saying it, again and again, gaze fixed on the floor, tears still dripping down his chin. He has to bite his lip hard enough to draw blood to finally stem the tide of apologies. He squeezes his eyes shut, tries to will the world away.

“Billy.” Steve’s voice is soft. He has a nice voice, so Billy focuses on it, through all the angry buzzing in his ears. “Billy, I need you to nod if you’re listening.” He doesn’t want to, he wants to curl up and fucking die, anything but be a person right now because everything hurts and there isn’t enough air in this room and— “Billy?”

He bows his head, twitches, it’s barely a nod but it’s all he’s got.

“Okay, good. Can I touch your hand?”

Billy’s heart stutters, aches. He’s having a hard time concentrating through the burn in the back of his throat, the static drowning out his thoughts. He nods again.

Steve’s fingers are gentle, pulling Billy’s hand from where it had tangled in his hair. He hadn’t noticed the fingernails digging into his scalp until Steve took one of his hands away. It ends up pressed against something warm, soft material under his fingers, moving slow—oh. His hand is on Steve’s chest.

“Can you breathe with me? Concentrate on me, okay?”

He does.

Steve’s cradling his hand. He’s got callouses along the top of his palm, barely there but present. He’s breathing deep, calm and steady. But despite his outward demeanour his heart is racing, Billy can feel it through his shirt. He curls his fingers into the sensation, fingertips digging in as far as he can push them.

Billy almost forgets to breathe he’s so fixated on Steve’s heartbeat.

It does its job either way though, because exhaustion is starting to hit him as the static recedes. He sags, relaxes. Every muscle in his body feels leaden.

He opens his eyes, squints against the sudden light.

He’s almost afraid to look up. Afraid of being judged, of triggering another episode, so fucking terrified, all the time—

“Billy?”

His fingers twitch reflexively, tightening his grip on Steve’s polo.

“You good?” His voice is still so soft, and so close it hurts.

It takes several long moments for Billy to collect himself. Then he looks up.

Max is hovering, standing behind Steve with wide eyes, her worry palpable. Hopper looks grim, but then again, he kind of always does. He’s a respectable distance away, watching. And Steve… Steve is right there still, holding Billy’s hand and looking at him like he cares, doe eyes shining, fixed on Billy’s face.

“I’m okay,” Billy says, voice rough. He sounds like hell, but they all visibly relax anyway.

The room is silent for too long after that. It feels tense in a distant way, like it would be awkward if Billy had the energy to care, was awake enough to feel anything but vaguely fuzzy. He’s still got a handful of shirt and doesn’t plan on letting go any time soon. Steve’s the only thing keeping him upright, and he hasn’t let go either.

“Did… did I do something wrong?” Max asks, her voice is small and tremulous and cuts right through Billy.

“No!” he’s quick to cut in, “No. Max. It’s…” Billy trembles, stutters to a stop. He has no idea how to explain, even to himself, let alone Max. Steve squeezes his hand. His stomach flips. “It’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t look like she believes him, but she doesn’t argue. He wishes he could make it better, but he’s got no idea how.

“We should all get some sleep,” Steve says.

And that’s that. His tone brooks no argument, even in a room full of stubborn assholes. Apparently, the past few years have given Steve time to hone his babysitting skills. Or maybe they’re all just as exhausted as Billy is.

There’s some squabbling about sleeping arrangements though.

Everyone insists Hopper take the master bedroom, Steve says his parents won’t know or care, his old friends did worse than sleep in that bed. They all poke at him until he relents and trudges off, bidding them a quiet goodnight.

Then Billy says he’ll take the couch and both Steve and Max yell at him.

Billy rolls his eyes. “It’s fine, guys,” he mutters. He’s not about to make Max sleep on the weird little couch (he’s done enough to her already) and putting Steve out in his own house would be shitty. “It’s not like I haven’t slept on worse.” He winces as he says it, realizing as the words come out of his mouth that it’s probably the wrong thing to say. It was meant as a reassurance, that he would in fact be fine with the couch, because at least it’s clean and warm, but all it does is make Max look sad and put a little wrinkle between Steve’s eyebrows.

“I’ve slept on this couch before,” Max says, a stubborn tilt to her jaw, “I’ll take it.”

Steve scoffs at that, “You complain every time you have to sleep on that couch, Max. Take the guest bed. Billy can take mine.” His fingers tense when he says it, and Billy realizes they’re still holding hands. His hand slipped from Steve’s shirt while they were bullying Hopper into taking the master suite, but Steve has yet to let go.

And… suddenly he wants nothing more than to sleep in Steve’s bed. But. “Only if you come with me,” he blurts.

Which is really not how he should have said that, but it’s out there now.

“Oh my god,” he hears Max mutter.

His whole head feels like it’s on fire. “Shit. I—I mean—”

“Okay,” Steve says hurriedly, then clears his throat, “Yeah. That. That works. Uh. Okay.” He’s glancing at Max awkwardly, nervous, but she just rolls her eyes. Billy barely notices her do it, too busy looking at Steve, his heart hammering.

“Steve, it’s okay. I’m—” It’s her turn to look uncertain, but it’s only for a second. “Me and El are dating. We’ve been trying to figure out how to tell everyone, and—yeah. Anyway. I’m not going to judge you, or whatever.”

Well, that was not at all what Billy was expecting. He takes a moment to worry about both of them, be terrified of what would happen to them if someone found out. Then he remembers that El can kill people with her brain and Max once threatened to castrate him with a spiked bat. The knot of anxiety doesn’t dissipate but he’s freaking out less.

“How long has that been going on?” Steve asks, sounding more bemused than anything.

Max turns pink, and it’s kind of fascinating to watch. She’s flustered. That’s adorable. “Since, um. Since April.”

“Happy for you, kid,” Billy says. And he means it. He barely knows El, in theory, but really. The kid’s been in his head. He could recite every story Hopper’s told him about her from memory. He died protecting her.

He knows her well enough to know she’s good for Max, and he loves Max enough to want her to have good things.

She grins, bright and real. Billy’s fairly certain he’s never seen her that happy before, and his heart clenches.

“I’m not sure who I’m supposed to give the shovel talk to here,” Steve says, more to himself than anything.

Billy snickers, and tugs on Steve’s hand, “Like you could take either of them.”

Steve steps closer, looking faux-offended, “I’ll have you know I won a fight once.”

“Yeah, three years ago. You’re a has-been, Harrington,” Max chimes in.

“Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I’m seventeen, dingus.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Robin.”

He missed them so much. Missed something he, if he’s being honest with himself, never really had in the first place. They both hated his guts before, and he… he was a mess. Still is. Just a different kind now. But being here, being part of this, is something he always on some level wanted and…

“Oh my god, Billy, are you okay?” Max asks, concern bleeding into her voice.

He’s crying again, smiles through the tears. “Yeah. Yeah I am.”

[avengerscompound]

The Test

The Test: A Clintasha Fanfic

Buy me a ☕ Character Pairing:  Clint Barton x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count:  3111

Rating:  M

Square filled: @clintbartonbingo​ - G1 Missing Scene

Warnings:  Sex talk, pregnancy scare, talk of past miscarriages and red room stuff, angsty, hurt/comfort

Synopsis:  When Natasha wakes up feeling nauseated, she and Clint had to face the possibility that she might be pregnant.  With the newness of their relationship and the fact that the Red Room has made it impossible for her to carry a baby to term, the three minutes it takes for the test to work are the longest of their lives.

A/N: After Natasha showed up in Rocket Raccoon with two of Clint’s kids I’ve been thinking about a story about how that happened considering in 616 Natasha can’t carry kids to term.  Now with Katie Barton showing up too, this story of finding out Nat was pregnant came to me.  I’m really happy with how it turned out.

The Test

Natasha woke completely engulfed in Clint’s arms.  That’s how it had been since she’d started her relationship back up with the archer.  It was like he was worried that during the night she’d disappear on him again and realize they weren’t meant to be together.  Not that she could blame him for that.  Their history was anything but smooth sailing but even at their worst, she had loved Clint Barton.  He was her best friend.  The only person who looked at her and saw the potential for what she could be despite her past, rather than a limited version of herself because of it.  There were often times she didn’t think she could live up to the image Clint had her, but god damn if she didn’t want to when he looked at her the way he did.  Even when he was married to someone else, or she was dating someone else, he never looked at her with anything other than the eyes of someone who truly believed in her.

They had always felt inevitable, but timing or their own messed up bullshit had gotten in the way.  This … this felt different.  Permanent.  Home.  She just hoped they didn’t mess things up again.

As much as she wanted to stay, wrapped in his well-toned arms, the bathroom called her.  She slipped out of his embrace, pushing a pillow into his arms as he reached out to the once occupied space.  She knew it wouldn’t keep him asleep for long but it would buy her some time in the shower alone before he hopped in behind her and it became about anything but getting clean.

She used the bathroom and hopped under the warm stream of the shower, letting it wash over her.  It was a rare day where she didn’t need to be somewhere doing something.  It was nice to be able to just enjoy it.  She grabbed the shampoo and squeezed some into her palm.  Something about the scent triggered her gag reflex.  She dry heaved as she rinsed the soap from her hand, and staggered out of the shower, dropping to her knees and throwing up into the toilet.

Clint appeared behind her and pulled her hair back behind her head.  “Are you okay, Nat?”

“No,” Natasha said, throwing up again as he rubbed her back.  When her stomach finally seemed to settle, she sat back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  “Pizdets.  That came out of nowhere.  I can’t even remember the last time I threw up.”

Clint helped her to her feet.  “Maybe it was something you ate.  Those shrimp tacos from that dodgy-looking food truck?”

“You had three times as many as me,” Natasha argued as she got into the shower.  She used the water from the showerhead to rinse the taste of sick out of her mouth.  “Why aren’t you sick?”

Clint stripped off his clothes and took out his hearing aids, putting them on the top of the medicine cabinet.  He climbed in behind her and circled his arms around her.  “Because I’m a manly man and you’re just a tiny girl.”

Natasha elbowed him. Hard.  It made his foot slip out from under him and he pinwheeled his arms trying not to fall before Natasha caught him again.  ‘Are you trying to make me kill you?’ she signed.

“Yeah, I was regretting that as the words were leaving my mouth.”  He said a little too loudly.

Natasha let out a breath and leaned her head against his shoulder.  She wondered if it was the tacos.  She’d been feeling a little off for weeks now.  Achy and ill.  Like she was getting the flu.  She stood back and looked up at Clint.  ‘Maybe it wasn’t the tacos.  Maybe I’m getting sick,’ she signed.

“Can you even get sick?”  He asked.

She shrugged and turned away from him.  Honestly, she didn’t think so.  While the serum she had was flawed compared to Steve’s it had always kept her healthy.  Maybe it had started to run its course now.  Or maybe whatever she caught had been designed specifically to attack super-soldiers.

“Maybe you’re pregnant,” Clint teased, running his hands up Natasha’s sides.  “Let me see.”  He cupped her breasts and seemed to bounce them in his palms like he was trying to weigh them.  “They do feel bigger.”

Natasha scowled and wheeled around on him as she tried to mentally count back to when she’d last had her period.  She had never been great with birth control.  The hormonal stuff worked for a little while and then the serum would start adjusting for it, and her body physically rejected any kind of implant.  So there was just the barrier kind, and she’d remember that most of the time until things got comfortable.  Normally it didn’t matter.  The serum had made it hard for her to conceive anyway.  But not impossible.  “Don’t even joke about that!”  She snapped, not even bothering to sign it, and trusting he got the tone in her voice by lip-reading alone.

“What?”  Clint asked, a genuine look of confusion on his face.  It was hard to keep her fear and anger directed at him.  Besides, as far as he knew she was just infertile because of the Red Room.  He didn’t know the dirty details.

She huffed, jumped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and dashed to the bedroom.  She grabbed her phone and started going through her calendar to work out exactly how late she was.  Clint appeared in the doorway, still dripping water, with a towel wrapped low on his hips as he put his hearing-aids back in.  “What did I say, Nat?”

“Pregnant, Clint!”  Natasha shouted.  “I think I’m pregnant!”

Clint just stared at her with his mouth opening and closing like a fish.  “What?  What?  What do you mean, Nat?  You said you couldn’t?”

She dropped her gaze.  “No,” she said.  “I can.  I have been before.”

“What?”  Clint said.  “Nat!  You said!  I would have been more careful!”

“I know, Clint!”  She cursed under her breath.  Just a string of random nonsensical swearing in various different languages, including Latin.

While Natasha was trying to figure out how exactly to explain to him how she’d fucked up, Clint’s face seemed to go through a whole emotional journey.  Like he was experiencing the five stages of grief all at once but instead of settling on acceptance, he settled on a hopeful optimism.  He moved to Natasha quickly and kneeled on the ground in front of her.

“But this is good,” Clint said, taking her hands in his.  “Nat, if you are… you get to be a mom like you wanted.  That’s good isn’t it?”

Natasha felt a very unfamiliar sensation in her eyes.  Was she about to cry?  Was Clint’s hopeful little puppy face about getting to have kids with her going to make her cry?  She rubbed her eyes in frustration and shook her head.  “You don’t understand, Clint.”

“Is it me?  You don’t want to have kids with me?”  He dropped his hands and flopped back onto his butt.  Lucky seemed to sense something was up with his favorite human being and he padded over and flopped down directly in Clint’s lap.  “Of course you don’t.  Why would you?  I’m a fucking mess.  I’m sorry, Nat.  If you… I dunno… want to …”  He shook his head and shrugged.  “...alone.  Or whatever.”

“Oh, you idiot bird,” Natasha said, kneeling on the ground in front of him and cradling his jaw.  “I love you so much.  Of course, I would want to have kids with you.  If anyone it would be you.  It was always you.”

“Then what is it, Nat?”  Clint asked.  “Shouldn’t you be excited?”

“There are so many things, Clint,” she said, looking down again.  “We’ve only just gotten back together.  Our lives.  But most of all…”  She stopped and let out a shuddering breath.  Clint looked at her with both fear and hope written all over his features and she was about to break his heart, the same way hers broke every time she thought about this.  “Clint, it’s not that I can’t get pregnant.  I can’t carry to term.  The serum makes the pregnancies non-viable.”

“Oh,” Clint said.  The sound almost like he’d been punched in the stomach.  “Oh,” he repeated.  He leaned forward pressing his forehead against hers.  “Has this happened before?”

Natasha sucked in air suddenly and two tears escaped her eyes.  She turned her head away from him.  He couldn’t see her weak like this.  She couldn’t be weak like this.  Not in front of Clint.  Not when he looked at her like the way he did.

He reacted quickly, shoving Lucky off his lap and pulling her into it.  His hands bunched in her hair and he kissed her.  The kiss was everything she needed it to be.  Strong and reassuring.  Loving and tender.  She knew exactly what he was thinking as he kissed her.  It was going to be okay.  Whatever happened, good or bad, they were together and it was going to be okay.

When he broke the kiss he kept her wrapped tightly in his arms.  “Maybe we’re getting ahead of ourselves, Nat.  When was the last time you had your … you know?”

Natasha pulled back from him and got back up, retying the towel around her.  “My period?”  She asked, and Clint nodded enthusiastically.  “Good god, Clint.  You want to have a baby with me and you can’t even say the word period?  What if this works and it’s a girl, and I die, and you have to tell her about periods?”

Clint started laughing as he got up.  “That is really getting ahead of yourself, Nat,” Clint said and when the scowl didn’t leave her face, he shook his head and looked into her eyes.  “If we do end up having a daughter together, I promise I’ll practice saying period.”  He sat down on the side of the bed and patted the space beside him.  Natasha moved up next to him and put her head on his shoulder.  “But when was it?”

“I’m not sure exactly.  It tends to be erratic.  They really did a number on my reproductive system.  But I’d say around two months ago.  Give or take a couple of weeks.”

Clint patted her leg and got up and started pulling on the dirty clothes he had scattered around the room.  “I’ll go buy some tests.  Okay?  Then we’ll know and we can work out what to do from there.”

Natasha watched as he hurriedly got dressed and Lucky seemed to be determined to try and trip him over.  “Clint?”  She said quietly.

“Yeah, Nat?”  He said as he pulled on his shoe.

“You’d be a good father, you know?”  She said.

Clint came over and kissed her forehead.  “Thanks, Nat.  You’d be a great mom.”

“I’m really scared.”  She whispered.

“That’s okay,” he whispered.  “It’s scary.”

She caressed his cheek with her thumb and flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling.  “I’ll be right back.”  He said and whistled for Lucky.  The mutt trotted after him as he headed out the door.

Natasha was still lying staring at the ceiling when Clint burst back through the door.  She hadn’t moved at all since he’d left.  She had just stayed lying there, wrapped in her towel with her legs hanging over the end of the bed.  The only difference between when Clint left and when he arrived was Liho was now curled up on her chest.

“Nat?”  He said softly.  “Are you dead?”

“I wish I was dead.”  She replied.

He sat down beside her and gave Liho a scratch on the head.  “I got you some presents.  Look.”

She sat up, putting a disgruntled Liho on her pillow, and looked in the plastic CVS bag he was holding open.  Inside was some Hershey’s Kisses, a Pez Dispenser in the shape of Ariel from the Little Mermaid, a bottle of strawberry lemonade, a small remote-controlled car, and the pregnancy tests.

“You bought all this for me?”  Natasha asked, looking up into the blue of Clint’s eyes.

Clint nodded and kissed her forehead.  Her eyes glistened with tears again and Clint's heart ached for her.  He knew how she felt about looking this weak, even in front of him.  He wished he knew the right words to say to make her realize she could do this.

“I love you, dummy.”  She whispered.

“I love you too, Nat.”

Natasha sighed and pulled out the tests.  “I better do this then.”

Clint sat on the edge of the bed and waited for Natasha to come back out of the bathroom. He pulled the remote-controlled car from the box and set it up.  When Natasha returned, she sat down next to him and put the tester on the bedside table.  Clint handed her the car’s remote.

“What do we do if it's positive?”  Natasha asked.  Her voice was hollow like she had lost the ability to emote over this anymore.  She started driving the car and immediately hit the dresser, knocking one of the wheels out of alignment.  Clint got up and picked it up.  He grabbed the multi-tool he kept on the dresser for when he wanted to mess around with his custom arrowheads and came and sat back down while he attempted to fix the small car.

“I don't know, Nat,” he said, frowning.  “What do you want to do?”

“I just -” she let out a breath and leaned over to watch what Clint was doing.  He wasn't entirely sure himself, but he'd taken off the whole base and was trying to straighten up the wheel.  “I hate how the Red Room still has this control over me.  I want to be a mother.  And I can't imagine anyone else being the person I have kids with except you.  But they've taken that from me.  This will just go like it did last time.  I'll get excited about it. Start buying baby things.  And one day I'll wake up in a huge pool of blood and it will be gone.  I can't go through that again, Clint.  It'll destroy me.”

Clint put the car back together and put it on the ground without saying anything.  Natasha pressed on the controls and the car did a donut and spun off under the bed.  Lucky barked at it and crouched with his head under the bed, his tail wagging like a helicopter blade.  “I’ve been through that too, you know?”

Natasha turned her head to face him.  “What?”

Clint nodded and fiddled with his fingers.  “Bobbi.  It wasn’t planned.  Like now.  But damn if we weren’t excited about it.  She didn’t make it very far into it before we lost it, so we never told anyone it happened.  Didn’t want the sad looks and asking if we were over it yet.  It hurt.  Bad.  But you move on.  There’s not a lot of choice.  Whatever happens, if you want to try to go ahead with it, I’ll be here.  If you do end up losing it.  I’ll be here.  If you really think you can’t go ahead with the pregnancy… for whatever reason… I’ll be here, Nat.”

Natasha rubbed her cheek against his shoulder and he wrapped his arm around her, holding her close.  “What if it does work out?  I want to be a mother more than anything, but are we really ready for that, Clint?  How would that even work?  What if all that happens is we end up breaking up and raising this kid who just hates us for never being there because there’s always Avengers stuff?”

Clint shrugged and reached under the bed.  He pulled the car back out and took the control from Natasha and started to drive the car in figures of eight around the bedroom floor while Lucky both chased it and ran from it.  “Now?  Later?  What difference does it make, Nat?  We’ll never be ready.  Not really.  But I love you and I want… all of that with you.  We can work it out.  Even when we weren’t together, it’s always been you and me.”

Natasha put her foot out and the car banged into it.  Lucky pounced on it and flipped it onto it’s back.  They both started laughing and Clint pulled Natasha into his arms.

“We’ve never talked about any of this before.  Family.  Children.  Not even marriage.  You married Bobbi but you never even brought that up with me.”  Natasha said.

“Bobbi asked me,” Clint said.  “In fact, Bobbi asked me, took me to Vegas and booked a cabin in the mountains with a spa, so we were married and on our honeymoon within a week of her saying she even liked me like that.  The first day I met you, I was in love with you.  I would have married you right then and there.  But I know you, Nat.  That’s never been you.  You want to get married?”

You smiled and nosed at his cheek.  “Maybe. To you.”  She let out a sigh and wrapped her arm around his waist.  “I hate the can still hurt me.  I’ve been away from them for years and they can still make me cry.  I don’t cry, Clint.”

“I know, Nat.”  He said gently.  “You’re my strong and emotionless girlfriend who I love very much.”

“Has it been long enough?”  Natasha asked.

Clint picked up the test and looked at it.  There were two indicator windows, a really small one with a single vertical line running through it and a much larger one that had what looked like a big bright pink plus.  His heart skipped and for a second he forgot how to breathe.  Positive.  The test was positive.  Natasha was pregnant and maybe she’d end up losing it, but right now she was pregnant with his baby and he was the happiest he had ever been in his entire life.

“Positive.”  He said, keeping his voice neutral, in the hope that how happy he felt wouldn’t put pressure on her to do something she didn’t want to.

Natasha looked up at him and slowly her face broke in a smile.  “We’re parents, Clint.”

Clint grinned and leaned in and kissed her, cradling her jaw in his large hands.  Maybe it would go the way it had for both of them in the past.  Maybe they’d have to work through their grief together in the broken, fucked up way they both dealt with things like that.  But right now, at this very moment, they were parents and nothing, not even the Red Room could take that from them.

[maggyme13]

Sugar (1/?)

AN: And as a starting gift for you lovely readers: here is the firt part^^

Warnings: assholes and swearing

Sugar Masterlist

Masterlist

___

„Who are you?“, an unknown male voice asked from behind you, causing you to jerk together.

Turning around, you noticed a man with long black hair (dressed in a suit) standing in the entrance of the appartment.

“Ehm-”, you answered confused.

“So? What are you doing in my eployers appartment?”, he frowned.

“I-I am (y/n) (y/ln).”

“Well, Ms (y/ln) what do you want?”, he sighted.

“Excuse me?”

“How much money for you to leave?”, the man asked, already opening the jacked of his suit.

“I don´t-”

“Fine, here- 5k and now leave.”, your opponent handed you a bunch of dollar notes.

“Bu-”, you wanted to exclaim.

“Leave, or I will call security.”, the man now growled, and a shiver went down your spine.

“Yes, Sir. Can I get my things first?”, you asked defeated.

“5 Minutes.”

You were gone before that timeframe closed.

Most of the money was tucked inside your bra and shoes, so no one would be able to easily steal it.

It was already dark outside, and you made your way to a cheap motel you knew to sleep at for the night. Tomorrow you would place the money into your bank account.

The money needed to last as long as possible, even though you felt dirty even accepting it.

After a short and restless night you bought some breakfast for yourself and Bob and Monty at a local bakery. Though when you exited the store (after a quick greeting) you ran into someone with full force.

“Oh my god. I am so sorry.”, you apologised, taking a step back and looking the person over for any damage you might have caused.

“You-”, it was the man who had kicked you out the night before, “-again. Good. I was inf-”

“I won´t tell anyone what I saw in your employees rooms. I will sign a faver. I promise.”, you panicked, noticing a few cops standing near by.

“That´s- good. But not the reason I am here for.”, he frowned confused, “But I still need you to come with me.”

“And if I don´t?”, you asked with huge eyes.

“”Do you want to find out?”, he contered and you shook your head.

“No- I will come with you, but- can I get this food to my friends over in that park first?”

“Hurry up. I will join you.”

“Yes Sir.”, you sighted.

Bob and Monty thanked you with a smile and once again told you how happy they where that you had gotten of the streets.

“Take a seat. My driver will get us back to my appartment.”, the man ordered and you oblieged, getting into the dark limousine.

____

“This will be your room. I has a joined bathroom and a walk-in closet.”, the man (you still did not know the name of) exclaimed, pointing at a white wooden door, “Over there is the kitchen with joined living-room. And that´s my room. Do not enter without a direct order or permission.”

“What, I don´t understand?”, you stated confused.

“What is there not to understand? You will stay here. Or do you want me to involve the police for trespassing and probably tried theft?”

“N-No, but-”

“I give you a place to life, food, water, clothing and other things you might need, and I only need one thing in return.”, he stated.

“And that would be?”

“You. So decide: Jail or staying here?”, he demanded to know and you sighted.

“I will stay.”, you ansered in defeat, not wanting to go to jail.

“Good to hear. I want you to go to your room and change into something else. Lunch will be served at one. Until then you have time for yourself.”

“Yes-”

“Loki. Loki Laufeyson.”, he introduced himself.

“Yes, Mr Laufeyson.”, you nodded, entering your room.

It was huge. Almost as big as your old appartment. A Queensized bed stood in the centre, facing the windowfront of the tower. On the left of you where two doors that must lead to the bath and closet you assumed.

Curiouse, you opened one of the doors, only to find the closed and you stopped dead in your tracks. The few clothes looked expensive and not like things you usualy wore. Looking through the fabrics, you tried to find anyhting for you to wear and finally found it in a rather comfortable looking dress. (at least more comfortable than the other things).

This will have to do. I fear. Now time to shower.

The pure luxury of the bath you stepped into took your breath away. It was gold and black with white highlights.

Is this gold?

A big bathtube dominated the centre of the room, and just like the bed, it was faced towards the windowfront. The shower was right next to at the wall.

A variety of soft looking towels laid arranged on a wooden commode next ot the tube.

Clothing the door behind you, you slowly stripped and made your way to the shower.

Luckily this is one of the higher floors and no one can look inside.

Eying the different kind of offered bottles, you found an arrangement of shampoos conditioners and other kinds of soap and things you had never heard of before.

Laying the towel down next to the door of the shower, you stepped inside and let warm water rain down over your tense body.

Slowly you were able to relax, the fruity scents of the shampoo helping further.

That was when an thought crossed your mind.

Cameras. What if he has cameras installed and it watching me now?

Tense again, you hurried to finish your shower and pulled the towel around your body. Hiding as much as possible from possible views.

Your eyes darted around the walls on the look out for any lensen or blinking red lamps. But nothing. This was the same in the closet.

You chose a simple and loose dress and a pair of leggins to wear for the time being.

The golden clock on the night-stand showed it was ten minutes before you were told lunch would be served, so you left your room and made your way towards the kitchen.

It was empty.

He is not here.

Not knowing what to do and what you were allowed to do, you stood awewkardly next to the dark oiled wooden table; not daring to sit on one of the definetelly expensive leather chairs.

“You are on time. Good. I don´t like to wait. Sit down. Food will be brought any second now. After that, we will talk.”, Mr Laufeyson stated upon entering the living area on his own.

You nodded and slipped onto the nearest seat, your eyes cast on the wooden tabletop, not daring to look up.

“I ordered some chinese to be brought up here. I hope that is to your delight.”, he continued, “Dinner will then be at seven. Now I want you to eat and then we will retreat into the living area to talk about, what will come next.”

You nodded in understanding once more.

He wanted to say something, but a knock on the door interrupted him.

“Yes?”

“It´s Sam. We met the delivery guy in the lobby and took the order for you.”, Sam´s voice called through the door.

“Come in.”

“Since when do you- Oh, hay (y/n). Was wondering where you where. Now I know why the order is bigger than usual. Well, gotta go. See you around, (y/n). Are you going to be at the club tonight Boss?”, the dark skinned male grinned and you smiled. Not wanting him to know of your uncomfortable situation.

“I am not sure yet. I will let Steve know. You and Barnes are both scheduled, am I right?”, the boss answered , accepting the food from the other man.

“Yes. Nat as well. A Businessman requested her being their VIP server.”

“Good. Maybe until tonight then.”, he dismissed his employee, who in return send you another warm smile and a wave before leaving.

__

Loki Laufeyson placed some dishes on the table and then the food containers in the middle; they looked not as those you knew, they looked expensive.

“I ordered a bit of everything. Take what you like.”, he hummed, already placing food onto his own plate.

You chose a small bit of everything: not too much to seem gready and not too less to seem ungreatefull. Though you were still hungry.

The question about the male´s reason was still burning in your mind.

“Let´s talk.”, he finally ordered, looking straight into your eyes, “As I already informed you, will you be staying here until further notice and I will take care of your needs. In return you will do as I ask you to and not speak with anyone about or little deal.”

“Like a slave.”, you mumbled more to yourself, though he still heard you, “Or a pet.”

“If that´s what you think. You are allowed to leave any time you want. But then I will tell the police about your trespassing. I own a large business, and a few smaller establishments where I am needed to be present at different kind of events. You will join and represent me. Dressed accordingly ofcourse. The first one will be next week. Other than those little things, you have to do nothing and can live in luxury.”

You shook your head.

“I don´t want pity or gifted money.”, you mumbled, tears gathering in your eyes, you always hated to depend on others and now you had no other choice. Or so it seemed.

“Interesting.”, he thought aloud, “If you feel better, you can take care of the houshold a bit, or so.”.

An amused smirk danced on his lips. Though deep down he was believing she was just playing him.

“Any questions?”, he finally asked after watching you for a few seconds.

“Cameras-”, you breathed, “ I mean, are there Cameras in here?”

“Why? Do you want to steal something?”, he mused with a smirk.

“NO!”, you quickly defended yourself.

“But yes, there are hidden Cameras in this appartment. Though no one has access to them unless something happens. They are positioned, so they capture who enters and leaves the appartment, as well as who enters the different private rooms. Those are not under surveilance, as long as no one calls out a safeword. Then everything is recorded and security informed. So no worries, I do not intent to spy on you whilst you are in your bathroom.”

“I- “, your eyes got huge, fearing you insulted the one who held your freedom in his hands.

“-am not mad. It is a thought anyone in your situation would have. Now, I have to do something -important- I will take you shopping tomorrow. You can´t wear those simple things when you are seen with me.”

And with that, he left through the front door and you alone in the foreign rooms.

Well, lets take care of these dishes.

Part 2

AN2.0:

So, what do you think of this first part? And are you ready for a bit of a different kind of SugarDaddy AU?

Let me know what you think and please REBLOG!

Thank you very much.

Taglists:

Taglists:

Permanent:

@jadepc@pacifyhxlsey

@thankyoukarenclifford

@thankyouforanonymity  @punkrockhufflefluff

@scarletraine

@ambrosialyn

 @markusstraya

@graveyard-groupie

@buckycaptspideypool

 @markusstrayya @randomgirlkensy @the-soulofdevil

MCU:

@yknott81    @banner-and-bucky-are-life @forext20 @dyanlzbb  @so-finster-die-nacht @emmii4 @caplansteverogers @bitchwhytho @ladyofmyst   @jilldsumner @momc95 @appreciating-fanfics

Sugar:

@bits-and-bobs-and-kawaii-stuffs @mimmie666   @fullranchwolfoperator

@cluelessnitwhit @youknowitsclouds @his-paradox @purplerainharry

@spootgaai2000 @iamsuperjenna

Want to get tagged as well? Comment, Reblog or send an ask to let me know.

[cake-writes]

Fire Breather (Part Six)

Pairings: Steve x Reader x Dark!Steve, Implied Steve x Peggy

Chapter Warnings: Deceptively Dark!Steve, Endgame Spoilers, Angst, Alternate Timeline, Reader Has Powers, 18+

Summary: It all made sense now why he wanted to go alone, why he’d been so distant with you lately. Steve had planned this. It wasn’t a spur of the moment decision like yours. And yours, well – it changed everything.

Part Five / Master List

It all happened in a rush. One minute, you were in a jail cell, locked up for crimes unknown and the next, you were back in your bedroom. Well, it wasn’t yours, exactly, but it wasn’t not yours, either.

Tony was extremely chatty as he led the way from lock-up, asking all sorts of questions about where you came from, to which you provided mostly vague answers. You’d already given away too much information in telling him that he’d died because of Thanos. The truths of your own timeline weren’t something that you thought that anyone here should know. You weren’t purposely being secretive, but you didn’t want to cause any more damage than you already had. 

Steve’s hand was warm and comforting on your lower back as they escorted you through the same halls you’d been through a thousand times – but here, only twice.

At first, you couldn’t help but flinch when Steve touched you. He’d hurt you in so many ways. He’d left bruises on your arms and your heart. He’d been so angry and bitter and spiteful with you over the last two days that it took you by surprise when he was finally gentle – and in that moment he seemed so much like your Steve that you found yourself letting your walls down.

It was naïve.

He immediately went to pull away, like he’d overstepped – and truth be told, he kind of did – but you just gave him a small, reassuring smile as if to tell him that it was okay. His eyes were the softest, kindest blue upon yours and, when you felt his hand against your lower back again, you found yourself missing him, missing this.

His affection. His tenderness. His care.

It had been a few weeks since you’d been treated so kindly by him, and even if he wasn’t your Steve, his palm radiated heat through the thin fabric of your shirt all the same.

“Why can’t I access any files?” you finally got enough nerve to ask at the end of your journey, when you arrived at your bedroom. “My clearance was denied.”

The question had been lingering on the tip of your tongue since FRIDAY refused to answer anything in the middle of the night, and you’d been wondering what crime this timeline’s version of you had committed. It must have been bad enough to revoke your security clearance, let alone have you thrown into a jail cell.

Tony’s chatty demeanour disappeared in an instant, and Steve’s hand instinctively slid to your hip, where his fingers dug in, as if to hold you in place – an act of desperation, almost. It didn’t hurt, but it was uncomfortable, just like the sudden change in atmosphere.

You still loved it – and him. Just not this him.

“Why don’t you get settled,” Tony suggested, clearly avoiding your question.

You frowned, before you turned your eyes to Steve, hoping he might offer an explanation. The second your eyes met, though, he looked away, and a muscle ticked in his jaw. He said nothing. Instead, he brought his hand back to his side.

You immediately missed his warmth.

“I guess it has been a tiring couple of days,” you acquiesced, eyeing Steve once more before you turned the handle to your bedroom door. “The meeting’s at eight?”

“Right! Right,” Tony spoke quickly, almost like he’d forgotten all about it. The others would need an update on the situation, and he’d invited you to come along just so that everyone was on the same page. The shock of it all had the team out of sorts, and he knew he’d have to answer your question eventually. The meeting might provide a good forum for that.

“I’ll see you at eight, then,” you told them both.  

“See you soon,” Tony promised.

Only when Tony pointedly cleared his throat did Steve finally look at you again, and all he offered was a terse, “See you then.”

It was a tense and awkward way to end a conversation, but you nodded once and then shut the door behind you with a soft click. When you turned around, you felt the anxiety start to creep in again. Everything seemed so familiar, and yet not. It was eerie. Even your towels in the bathroom were the wrong shade, just slightly – but, surprisingly, when you went for a shower you discovered that your soap and shampoo were the same brands you used at home.

Home.

So many things were the same, but the slight differences everywhere you looked were a constant reminder that this wasn’t your home.

At eight o’clock on the dot, you strode into the meeting room with all the confidence in the world. Well, not exactly. It was a façade, but you needed to exude confidence otherwise you’d shatter to pieces.

The others in attendance had been having conversations amongst themselves, but the second you walked in, all chatter came to a screeching halt.

It was too quiet.  

Tony had sent out a quick email stating that you weren’t a threat, but he hadn’t gone into more detail than that because everyone deserved to learn why straight from the source. That was what this meeting was for.

All eyes were on you, and you shifted uncomfortably at the front of the room. You knew every single person here, but you also didn’t. It was unsettling.

“So, uh,” you started, “I guess you could say I’m not from around here.”

You glanced from Natasha, to Bucky, to Wanda, searching for some hint of recognition from your closest friends, but you found nothing – so instead, you focused on Steve. His eyes were so familiar and so, so blue, and even if he wasn’t your Steve, just knowing that he was there offered some small amount of reassurance. In fact, his presence was stupidly calming. He was still a stranger.

“What I mean is, I’m not from this timeline. Let’s just say that this wasn’t my intended destination,” you continued, nervously fidgeting with the long sleeve of your dark grey t-shirt – something you’d never wear, just like the rest of the tight, dark, form-fitting clothing you’d found in your closet. “I don’t really know what happened to the ‘me’ that you all know, and I was hoping to get some clarity about that during this meeting. FRIDAY won’t tell me anything, and—”

“You died,” Clint interrupted.

Well, he never was one to mince words. Even still, his blunt statement caught you off guard, and you stared at him. “What?”

“Almost six years ago, now,” Natasha spoke up, and despite her flawless, emotionless mask before, it clearly bothered her to discuss this. She wasn’t the only one; just about everyone in the room shared the sentiment. You could see it plain as day: eyes turned downward in bitter recollection, heads hanging low. 

For some, it would have been much fresher in their minds, all the more an open wound, considering they’d just been brought back after a five year absence. Thanos had happened here, too.

“I’ll get you the files,” Tony told you quietly, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder. “It might be better if you read about it.”

His implication was that this was dredging up awful memories in the team. Even you could see it on their faces. The realization of it – that you’d died, that you’d been mourned – made your throat go dry.

“I’m sorry,” you offered hesitantly, sympathetic and genuine. “I—I didn’t know.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Steve told you, and you turned back to him to find that he was more upset than anyone. To the untrained eye, he might have appeared fine – a little bothered, perhaps – but he clearly wasn’t. You could just tell.

In that moment, you realized that the two of you must have been together in this timeline, too. There was no other explanation. You could read him far too easily. Even if he wasn’t your Steve, he was still like him in so many ways.

The question escaped you before you could hold it back, and you gestured between you and him. “Were we…?”

This wasn’t exactly the right forum for it, but this wasn’t exactly the right timeline, either.

“Yeah,” Steve responded far too evenly for your liking, and he slowly pulled a small chain out from under his shirt upon which hung two silver rings: a small, delicate wedding band coupled with a larger one to match. He didn’t have to say who they belonged to. “We were.”

The two of you were married. Married. Not just dating like in yours. 

It was another level of commitment that you would have reached one day, maybe, if Steve – your Steve – hadn’t been so selfish and made such a stupid fucking decision to go back into the past to be with his first love. That new knowledge shook you to your core, but more than that, it made you angry. 

It hurt, too. It stung to know that while your Steve had abandoned you, this one hadn’t. No, instead you’d been married, and then you died—

“It’s her all right,” Bucky said, then, and it drew you out of your reverie. When you looked over at him, you noticed the sweat dotting his brow, and Wanda’s, and Bruce’s – and then you caught Steve’s gaze once again, and you nearly forgot how to breathe. His eyes were a stormy blue, but you knew in an instant that it wasn’t because he was angry, too; it was because he knew.

Somehow, he knew about what happened in your own timeline. You vaguely recollected rounding on him when you first arrived, spitting some vicious words about Peggy. Not much. Then you mentioned her again to Bucky. Still not much. 

Still, he knew.

“Sorry,” you said again, almost robotically this time, before you made your way to the door. “I just… I need to just…”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence, instead opting to shove open the glass door and exit the meeting room without a shred of the faux confidence you’d displayed before. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think. All you could focus on was how much you wished that this was your timeline. 

Even if you were dead, here, you knew you must have died happy.

Now, you were anything but. You were a mess, upset and distraught and hating yourself for it. 

When you left, you took the sweltering heat with you.

Part Seven

Tags:  @jennmurawski13​, @stupendousshepherdloverpony​, @flowersbound​​, @mom---nicole​, @clevercamijo​, @argonclearhero​, @unlikelygalaxygiver​, @justendlesssummerfeels​​, @hayleymoondance​, @patzammit​, @fairytaleprincess8314​, @kali-rogers​, @blameitonthecauseway​, @m00nlightandmagic (I can’t tag you! :( ),  @isysen, @clevercamijo, @reerrrrskillz, @titty-teetee, @awkward117, @sebabestianstan101

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

Bruises on Both my Knees (For You)

Billy hasn't been able to satisfy the itch beneath his skin since leaving California. Unfortunately, he doesn't think he has a chance in hell to find what he needs in small town USA.

But that all changes when he sees the fire in Steve Harrington's eyes the night they fight. He sees something in Harrington that he sometimes sees in himself when he looks in the mirror.

Harrington has demons. Just like Billy

Chapter Four excerpt:

He's in the fucking shower with Billy Hargrove and maybe they aren't going to do anythingcrazy but there's about to be some kind of sex happening here. 

Holy shit. 

"Relax, you're wound so damn tight." He says, hands gently running over Steve's shoulders and down the curve of his back. He shivers at the contact despite the hot water steaming the shower around them. "I told you, nothing crazy is happening today. I just want you to get used to being touched."

"You act like I'm a fucking virgin." He scoffs. 

"For all intents and purposes, Harrington, youare ." He proves his point by bringing a hand between them and wrapping it around Steve's half hard cock. Steve can't help but jump a bit and Billy smirks. "See, like a blushing virgin." He gives it a few slow pumps. "I'm sure you've been around the block and satisfied some ladies in your time, but it's different when you're with another man. Some things are the same, there's probably not much difference between Wheeler's mouth and mine, but I'm going to do things to you that you won't fucking believe ." 

Steve's cock twitches at the thought. Fuck. 

"Hmmm. Feels like you're on board with that idea."

Steve looks away. "Maybe."

Billy drops his hand from his cock and he almost whines at the loss. 

"Hey, now. Can't go rushing to the finish line, Harrington, we've got too much to do." There's laughter in his voice and Steve wants to hate him for mocking him, but he can't. Not when he knows there is a finish line. 

Billy looks around and grabs a bottle of shampoo and squirts some into his hand. 

"What are you doing?" Steve didn't think they were here to actually get clean. 

He sighs. "Just let me do this. I swear, it's going to help. We need to build up some trust between us. I fucked it up back in November, so I'm starting over. This plan won't work if you still subconsciously flinch away from me."

"That makes sense." He says, because it does , and he allows Billy to maneuver him beneath the water to get his hair wet. 

It feels strange and much too intimate when Billy starts washing and conditioning his hair, and then feels even moreso when he moves to rub soap suds across every inch of his body. He's never had anyone wash him before and he knows it's some kind of like… trust exercise, but it's still a little awkward just standing under the shower head and watching his former enemy rub circles into his skin.